Poem 4.

These are my colour in the numbers ready 

comfortable surroundings words.

This is my miss-asserted, never written 

letter to myself. 

This is my shadow gagged and forced confession,

My afterword to the third. 

This is to the female lead role,

Trans woman filling out her deed poll, 

The ones who finish last.

The token black actor of the 80’s rewrite with the all white cast. 

This is my first screenplay and 

Autobiography in one. 

This is not a response to your criticism,

This is my self asserted, self worth, conceited, well done. 

This is coming home on Tuesday before 8pm, 

My shadow in the hall way, 

Me shouting at you up the stairs.

Train rides at days’ tide and seeing you when I oblige. 

This is CV’s written in the waiting line at passport control,

Or saving up for three years, with no tears, 

To get near your goal. 

This is for the sole addressee of my letters, 

The name at the end of the page.